


Blessed persistence

by Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Depression, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Instability, One Night Stands, Porn With Plot, Prompt Fic, Public Sex, Smut, Stalking, That turns into more, Top Castiel, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew/pseuds/Ohdarlingifonlyyouknew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It was slightly scary, but exhilarating at the same time; how Cas wanted to have control, wanted to determine the pace. And Dean was the one in power right now.'</p><p>Dean should have seen it coming. He should have seen it coming from the very beginning. But it really was too late for that now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. THERE COULD BE SEVERAL TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THERE FOR YOU. Though there's no real fighting back, what happens in this fic comes close enough to rape for me to tag it as such and not just as dub-con. This fic was based off a prompt, which I greatly enjoyed writing, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Just remember that this is a really dark little fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. Nor do I own the lyrics at the start of each chapter. The title is another song of 16 Horsepower, a song that I don't own either. Basically, I own nothing but my fics. They're mine. Don't steal please.
> 
> Also, the first lyric, from Crazy in Love? I would personally recommend listening to it (because that's what I did, several times, while writing this fic). The 50 Shades of Grey remix. Yes, I know, CRAP film. Good soundtrack though.

_ "You got me looking so crazy, my baby"  _ \- Crazy in Love, Beyoncé

\---

“Can I get a refill here? Actually, you know what, make it a double.”

Dean barely even looked at the bartender as he said it. Hell, why would he? He came here to get smashed or get laid (perhaps even both, though past experiences told him it wasn’t the greatest of combinations), and right now he was scouring the room for any interesting faces. Which, sadly, he didn’t spot.

“I think you’ve had quite enough.”

Dean could hear the two drinkers on each side of him fall silent for a second, could practically  _feel_  them throwing up some metaphorical mental barrier (as Sam would say it), to block out what would undoubtedly result in some sort of drunken rage.

Or, well, that’s what they thought would happen. Dean wasn’t a violent drunk though, something he was quite proud of. And to be honest, he wasn’t even that drunk. So who the  _hell_  did this bartender think he was?

He turned around to come face to face with the two bluest eyes in the history of eyes.

Okay, maybe he was a bit drunk.

The guy behind the bar sent him a deadpan expression, clearly not in the mood to budge to any pleading or shouting. Dean raised his eyebrows. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try though.

“I’m sorry, but I can still walk just fine, thank you very much. And you  _are_  a bartender. So…”

“No.”

He said it so calmly, so casually, it threw Dean off completely for just a moment.

“What? Are you actually refusing to pour me a drink?”

The man tilted his head just a little, squinting slightly as seemed to realise they were suffering from a slight miscommunication. “My apologies, that was a little coarse,” he said. “What I meant to say was no, I’m not a bartender.”

Dean was practically gaping at him. The drinkers around him were sniggering behind their hand, but he ignored them.

“Then what the hell are you doing behind the bar, serving people drinks? Jesus, you’re even cleaning the top!” He pointed to the rag in Blue-Eyes’ hand, which the guy had been rubbing over the sticky wooden surface of the bar a mere few seconds ago.

Blue-Eyes was about to answer when a tall, older guy came out of a small cellar to which the hatch had been hidden in the floorboards behind the bar. He patted the fake bartender on the back and gave him a smile. “Thanks for keeping an eye on things, Cassie, you can go back to enjoying yourself again now.” The words were drawled in a strong British accent.

Dean had to wrack his brain for a few seconds, but then something clicked. “I remember you,” he said, almost accusingly.

“And you should,” the Brit answered. “I’ve been serving you drinks all night. You want a refill, I’m guessing?”

“He’ll have something non-alcoholic, thanks, Balthazar,” Blue-Eyes answered for Dean. That wasn’t exactly something Dean could appreciate.

“Listen, man, I really am not that drunk, and I’m a grown-ass man, I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you. So for the love of God, why won’t you just let me order a double Scotch!?”

The bartender – the real one – chuckled, clearly aware of what was going to be the answer, as he put together a cocktail for some random chick, while Blue-Eyes put down the rag, walked around the bar, and came just a little too close. Dean could feel his heartrate quicken.

“Because too much alcohol can cause impotence,” he answered as he took the seat next to Dean. “And that…”

He suddenly smiled, and it lit his face up in the most beautiful way. Dean’s breath hitched when he noticed Blue-Eyes’ pupils dilate and cause his eyes to darken in a slightly mischievous way.

“That would be a real shame.”

_ Eh… _

“Oh.”

Blue-Eyes grinned. “Castiel,” he said as he extended his hand.

“Yeah.” Dean took the hand and held it, his mind foggy. What was he supposed to be saying again? Something about being a grown man who was totally not drunk, he was sure it was something like that. But damn, those  _eyes_...

“You know, I’m sure this abundance of physical contact is an absolute joy, but Cassie’s kinda fishing for a name,” the bartender provided helpfully. Castiel rolled his eyes but didn’t drop his smile, something Dean saw as a good sign.

“Ah. Shit. Yes. Dean. Me. I mean, I’m Dean.”

Castiel laughed, drawing Dean’s attention to the twitching tendons of his stubbled neck. God, this man was absolutely gorgeous. And interested. Guess Dean’s night was unfolding just as he’d wanted. Though a little less embarrassing awkwardness would’ve been nice. He finally let go of Castiel’s hand, missing the contact immediately. The guy had had a nice, warm, firm grip, dry hands with beautiful lean fingers. He could probably perform absolute miracles with those fingers…

“Eh, crap,” he cleared his throat, “I mean, you want a drink?”

Again Castiel laughed, though this time it was more of a soft chuckle. Dean was starting to feel simultaneously more comfortable and more nervous around him – though the latter was probably caused by the slight tenting of his trousers.

“Well, if there would even be question of another drink, I’d be the one paying, to make up for your discomfort,” he replied with a soft kindness in his voice. Dean nodded. That was pretty decent of the guy.

“But we could also just admit that we’re both here for a casual hook-up without all the fuss and get to my place to have some excellent sex.”

_ Oh. Right. _

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean answered. His voice sounded hoarse and he had to swallow, but he masked his nerves with one of his most flirtatious smirks. The guy –  _Castiel_ , a name that sounded as intriguing as he looked – was right. Casual sex. What he came here for in the first place (with getting drunk in the second place of course, in case he wouldn’t have managed to get a hook-up). Something told him though this guy was going to be kind of mind-blowing.

Apparently Castiel lived two blocks away, which was probably why they went to his place – or maybe Cas hadn’t even given an option, Dean couldn’t quite remember. All he knew right now was that he wanted to feel those hands all over him, wanted to feel those fingers work him open and drive him mad.

It was all a bit of a blur, but suddenly they were in what was definitely a bedroom, both in a frenzy to get their clothes off as quick as possible. Dean wasn’t often the type to go quick, but something about Castiel made him want everything he potentially had to offer, and want it  _now_.

When they were both naked though, Castiel took a step back and let his gaze roam up and down Dean’s body appreciatively. Dean didn’t feel in the mood for this delay but he let it happen. He had to comment on it though.

“You know, undressing me with your eyes is a bit difficult when I’m already naked. So shall we just get to the good part?”

Castiel looked up and grinned. “Alright. If you are so impatient.”

“Hey, I came for casual sex, not dinner by candle-light. I’m horny as hell. So yeah, I’d like to get some action now.”

The older man tilted his head a little, and his smile widened. He started closing in on Dean, forcing him backwards until his legs hit the bed and he fell down on the soft mattress. And suddenly Castiel was right there between his legs, leaning in until he was looming over him. He rolled his body down as he captured Dean’s mouth in a scorching kiss, rubbing their erections together and eliciting a gasp from the younger man.

Dean’s hands flew up to grab hold onto Castiel’s shoulders and pull him in even further, maximising their skin-on-skin contact. His hips stuttered up to meet the older guy’s again, smearing precome everywhere and drawing a moan from both of them. That was all it took for Castiel to lose himself in rutting against Dean’s leg. Dean let out an indignant huff at that.

“Come on, dude, we can do better. You got lube?”

Castiel sighed with a groan and nodded. “Fine, fine, I’ll do some effort,” he muttered as he reached out to pull a bottle of lube from the drawer of his nightstand.

Dean chuckled. “Well, I can prep myself, if you want,” he said. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more drunk than I am. You weren’t drinking, were you?”

Castiel seemed to freeze for a second before relaxing again and coating his fingers with the lube. “I needed some courage,” he muttered, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “You seemed a little… out of my league.”

This made Dean look up in surprise. “Hey, man.” He took Castiel’s face between his hands. “Don’t ever say that, okay? You seem like a pretty damn great guy. Don’t bring yourself down like that.”

“Dean, I just humped your leg,” Castiel muttered, still trying to avoid Dean’s gaze.

“Yes, you did,” Dean agreed. “You got carried away. Which is understanding. Dude, we’re drunk. I don’t expect this to be the best sex I ever had.” He finally managed to capture the older man’s gaze. “It could be the best  _drunk_  sex, though? If you want?”

Castiel was still for a moment before smiling. “I think we could manage a stab at that, yes,” he finally said. And with that he leaned down and recaptured Dean’s mouth, his tongue darting out to lick against Dean’s lips and gaining entrance immediately. As their tongues explored each other’s mouths, he reached his lubed hand between the younger man’s legs, coaxing them apart and searching for his hole. When he’d found it, Dean let out a soft hiss at the sudden contact.

“Responsive,” Castiel muttered against Dean’s mouth, who just rolled his eyes.

“Dude, get your fingers in there before I do it myself.”

Castiel laughed at that, and with a soft nip at Dean’s lips he pushed in the first finger, earning himself a groan.

It didn’t take much for Dean to nearly lose his mind right there. The burn and stretch hurt a little, but he barely noticed. He just pushed his hips back on the digit, causing Cas to let out a surprised huff. Dean had to smirk at that, and quickly pressed their lips together again to draw more sounds like that out of the older man.

The prep was messy after that, and a little too quick perhaps, but neither of them cared when Castiel finally pushed in, causing both of them to let out guttural moans and leaving them panting for a moment while Dean adjusted to the feeling of the cock inside him. And yeah, it definitely took a  small moment for him to adjust.

But eventually he registered Cas’ soft pleads of “Dean, can I… please, can I move…” which he answered with a breathless “Oh god yes”. And suddenly Cas was thrusting in and out and Dean was letting out an endless streams of grunts and moans. He lifted Dean’s legs to wrap around his hips, and Dean couldn’t help but dig his heels into Cas’ back, especially when the guy leaned in and started to create hickies all over Dean’s neck and torso while tweaking his nipples at the same time, and it was too much, holy hell that was just so much, along with the feeling of being full and feeling the guy thrusting into him and it was just  _amazing –_

Dean came embarrassingly fast, but he couldn’t help it. Castiel just seemed to know exactly how to pull it from him, until he threw his head back with a choked “Jesus, Cas –” and his toes curled while his cock spurted ribbons of come between them.

And that seemed all Cas needed to come too, or at least with a few more thrusts before he grunted “Dean” and came as well. Dean could sort of feel it inside him, and in his drunkenness it almost made him giggle if he wasn’t so sexed out of his mind, so in the end he just gasped as Cas came and collapsed on top of Dean.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them panting, sticky with sweat and come. Eventually though, Dean started to feel Cas’ weight. “Dude, you mind?” he grunted, to which Cas responded with a grunt of his own as he rolled off of the younger man. Both of them completely spent, neither wanted to get up to get something with which they could wipe themselves off, so they just lay there, staring at the ceiling. It would have been awkward perhaps, but they didn’t care. They were drunk, and just had good sex. And so they fell asleep like that, naked and sticky and spent.

~oO0Oo~

The next morning, Dean was the first to wake up, feeling like he’d gone a few rounds with a freight-train. Though that might also be the hangover.

He got up to take a leak and clean himself off, then went back to the bed. This wasn’t his house, so technically it was his job to ditch the other in the morning, but Dean was nothing if not a gentleman, so he wanted to at least announce that he was leaving before sneaking out. Who knew, maybe Cas could make a killer breakfast.

He wasn’t going to find out though, because apparently Cas was even worse with mornings than Dean was. Dean did try to wake him up, he really did, but eventually Cas’ grumbles started to go over into growls and Dean decided to just leave a note and make sure the door would be closed behind him when he left.

The rest of his day he had to work through a killer hangover, and if his colleagues at the garage noticed his slightly funny walk, they didn’t mention it. By the time Dean got home, he was exhausted and sore, but his mind was finally starting to clear a little, so he decided to cook anyway instead of ordering in like he usually did after a day like this.

He was halfway through making his pasta with cheese-sauce and mushrooms when his doorbell rang. Dean felt the urge to shout “no-one’s home!”, but realised that would’ve been kind of counterproductive. In the end he decided to just go and accept whatever parcel was being delivered or lend sugar to his slightly desperate and sexually frustrated neighbour again.

Except when he opened the door, it was the guy from last night, looking slightly uncomfortable with intruding on Dean’s personal space but trying to smile nevertheless. Not the best combination of facial expressions usually, but he seemed to wear it surprisingly well.

“Hey, Cas! Cas, right?”

The corner of the guy’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Close enough,” he replied. “I’m really sorry to intrude, Dean, but I believe you left this at my place last night.”

He handed Dean a wallet that looked suspiciously familiar.

“Oh my God, I actually did? I don’t even know how I didn’t notice that being gone,” Dean groaned. He took the wallet and smiled. “Thanks, man.” For a moment he frowned; how had the guy known where he lived? But then he realised his address was in the wallet.

They stood on the doorstep in silence for an awkward few seconds before Dean realised he should probably be a bit more polite. “Eh, I was actually cooking… You wanna join?”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude,” he replied hastily, but Dean grinned.

“Come on! You brought me back my wallet. And…” He quickly checked it, just to be sure. “It seems like you didn’t take anything from it. Seriously, Cas, don’t sweat it. Come in.” He stepped aside, and after a moment of tentative hesitation, the older man followed him into the hallway.

Dean normally didn’t do this, of course, inviting one-night-stands to stay for dinner. Not because he was an asshole or anything, it just never seemed appropriate. But Cas really seemed like a good guy. And it was nice to see him too when they were both sober. For example, he could see Cas’ eyes light up when the guy smelled the scents drifting from the kitchen.

“Italian?” he asked. Dean smiled.

“You have a good nose. Yeah, pasta with cheese sauce and mushrooms.”

“Which herbs did you use?”

Dean frowned for a moment, but then Cas smiled. “Rosemary. Add some rosemary. It’ll make it even more amazing.”

Dean gave a grateful smile. “Eh, can you take off your jacket yourself? Normally I’d help, but I have a stove to tend to.” The older man nodded, and he rushed out to the kitchen to prevent things from burning, leaving his guest in the hallway.

It was a slightly older house, perhaps from the forties. The wallpaper had warm colours and the floorboards were worn. Every room seemed to have its own version of a smell that bordered between warm wood, a hint of musk and  _home_. These smells were currently joined by the smells of dinner from the kitchen, which now seemed significantly more herb-y.

Dean had specifically bought this house because of his childhood. Sure, his and his brother’s childhoods had involved quite a bit of travelling, what with their dad having been a salesman, but there had been one constant house, one  _home_ , and it had been his uncle Bobby’s place, which wasn’t too different from this place. Except Bobby had a lot more books, stacked up everywhere. The guy was a sucker for myths and legends from all over the world. It had been paradise for Sammy when growing up. And this was the closest Dean could get to that old memory without actually visiting Bobby.

“Hey Cas, you comin’ or what!? Can’t imagine my hallway being that interesting!” he called from the kitchen. And sure enough, Cas’ head popped through the door a second later.

“I was admiring the decorating,” he said with a smile as he leaned against the counter next to Dean, sniffing up the alluring wafts of air that came from the pan his host was stirring in. Dean chuckled at that.

“My hallway isn’t exactly decorated.”

“I mean the atmosphere. This house feels very… rustic. Loved.”

Dean’s smile softened at that. “Yeah, it is,” he replied. “Had to do some renovating when I moved in, but it was worth it.”

“You built parts of this house?” Cas raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well,  _re_ built, you know. But yeah. Had to replace part of the floor where the wood had rotted. And the railing of the stairs.”

“It looks very authentic. You did an amazing job.”

Dean shrugged, almost seeming shy all of a sudden. “I’m good with my hands.”

Cas couldn’t help himself from smirking slightly. “Clearly. I’d love to see that up close sometime.”

And Dean had to smirk back at that of course. If bait was dangled in front of him like that, he just couldn’t resist. “Oh would you now? Last night not good enough?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, and I know I do, it was me who was doing the work.”

There was a soft click as Dean turned the hob off. He then turned to Cas, pupils dilating slightly at the sight of the older man smirking and leaning against his kitchen counter so confidently, as if he belonged there, as if he owned the place.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off, and I’ll show you just how good I can be.”

Cas raised his eyebrows at that, still smirking. “What about the food?”

“Done. Can always be reheated.”

Dean’s breath hitched just a little as his guest pushed himself off from the counter and closed in on him, until he could feel the other’s breath ghost over his own lips. The next word, spoken in a low, rich, gravelly voice, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Good.”

In a flash he had Cas pinned against the counter, pressing their bodies together, feeling that heat radiate through their clothes. He wanted Cas’ white button-up  _off_ , wanted it on his kitchen floor right the fuck now, but he wasn’t going to do that. Wasn’t going to rush through this like last night. Cas had asked for it, and now he was going to get it, slow and torturous and as goddamn good as Dean could make it.

So he scraped his teeth over that dark stubble that covered Cas’ throat, shivering a little as he heard the man’s breath hitch, while his hands slowly unbuckled Cas’ belt. He chuckled as he heard the softest gasp.

“And I haven’t even touched your fly. Who’s responsive now?” he muttered against the skin of Cas’ throat, continuing to scrape his teeth and brush his lips over it, enjoying the light scratch of stubble against his lips and feeling the older man shiver from the sensation.

“Shut up,” Cas breathed. “Just get your damn hands down my pants.”

“Oh, making demands are we? Remember those are  _my_  hands you’re talking about. Can’t force them to go faster.”

Cas actually  _growled_  at that, a sound that went straight to Dean’s dick. It was slightly scary, but exhilerating at the same time; how Cas wanted to have control, wanted to determine the pace. And Dean was the one in power right now. But he decided to indulge the guy, just this once. He was rutting his hips so desperately after all.

And so Dean popped the button of Cas’ dress pants and pulled out his cock, which was already leaking and growing harder with each touch of Dean’s hands. As he closed his fist around it, Cas’ eyes fluttered closed and he tilted his head back, letting out a soft groan. Dean had to chuckle at that.

“I haven’t properly started yet, you know.”

“Fuck you,” Cas spat back between gritted teeth as he bucked his hips, but Dean only loosened his grip at that and leaned in until his lips were barely grazing the older man’s.

“Later,” he promised, and Cas shivered.

“Dean, please,” the older man panted.

Dean smiled this time, and nipped at the other’s lips. “Your wish is my command.” And with that he slowly started jacking Cas.

And though Dean wasn’t exactly gaining much from it when it came to getting off himself, he was enjoying this thoroughly. Because Cas was clearly trying to keep himself from shaking, hands fluttering from the counter to Dean’s arms in desperate search for something to hold onto, biting his lip to hold back a moan as Dean turned his wrist.

“Come on, Cas, want you to make noise, make some noise for me,” Dean muttered as he carefully took Cas’ lower lip between his teeth and pulled it free. And the older man couldn’t help it. He let out a low, shuddering groan at that that made Dean’s breath hitch, encouraged him to speed up his movements.

He could feel Cas’ cock grow harder under his grip, relished in every drop of precome he swiped from Cas’ slit with his thumb, drunk up every ragged moan that escaped Cas’ lips. All these sensations he pretty much missed out on the night before, but now he could enjoy them, revel in them.

And then Cas’ fingers were in his hair, pulling at the short strands at the base of his neck, and he gasped and moaned Dean’s name.

“Dean… Want your mouth… Please…”

Dean pulled back a little to catch the sight of the man before him. Pupils blown wide, swollen flush lips parted and shiny with spit, he looked dishevelled and desperate and like a goddamn sex god.

“Yeah?” Dean breathed. “You want my mouth, Cas?”

The older man growled and surged forward to crush their lips together again, licking and biting for a good half minute before pulling back again, leaving Dean completely out of breath.

“Yes.”

And Dean couldn’t say no to that, he couldn’t. So he gave a last nip at Cas’ jaw, and then he sank down to his knees, pulling the other man’s pants and boxers down a bit further. He hovered there for a moment, hand at the base of Cas’ cock, as he looked up, meeting that hooded gaze. The grip on his hair tightened, but it didn’t feel forcing or painful.

He gave the smallest smile, and then he took the tip into his mouth.

There was a soft, strangled gasp above him, and the grip on his hair tightened again, this time a little painful, but that just coaxed a gasp from Dean as well, and Cas couldn’t help but thrust into his mouth a little at that.

And  _fuck_ , it was good. Cas was perfect. Not big and fat, just cock, just  _Cas_. It tasted a little musky, but Dean didn’t care, because the noises the older man was making as he was breaking down were going straight to Dean’s dick.

He sucked on the head a little, teasing as Cas tried to thrust further into his mouth, but then letting him, swirling his tongue at the same time, feeling that solid weight, smooth and hot, filling his mouth. He was bobbing his head and swallowing and Cas was completely coming undone.

When Cas tried to thrust deeper though, Dean nearly gagged. Luckily Cas picked up on it, or this would’ve turned unpleasant really quickly. But Dean knew how to compensate, and he jacked the base of Cas’ cock as he continued working his mouth, swallowing, sucking, swirling his tongue and pressing it against the length, until he could feel Cas’ cock twitch. He pulled back just as the man came with a hoarse moan, painting stripes of come all over Dean’s lips and jaw.

Dean quickly got up after that from his spot on the floor, pressing his lips against Cas’, licking his mouth open and sharing that strange, salty-bitter taste between them as he pulled his own dick out of his pants and jacked off. It took him less than a minute before he too came with a grunt.

Dean had to hold on to the countertop after that, feeling slightly wobbly. Cas looked probably about as sexed out and satiated, but he at least was still able to stand on two legs. He grabbed a towel and held it under running water for a moment before gently wiping Dean’s face with it.

Dean gave a little smile at the gesture. “What do I owe that for?”

“The best blowjob ever,” Cas stated simply.

“Even though I suck at deep-throating?”

“Yes,” Cas answered with a smile. Dean actually felt kinda touched at that. “You wanna have dinner now?”

Dean had to laugh at that. “Sure. But there’s no way I’m using the dining table now. I have a very comfy couch and a pretty nice TV. What do you say?”

They spent the rest of the evening watching soaps. Dean had been a bit hesitant to admit he didn’t want to miss the latest episode of Doctor Sexy MD, but when Cas admitted that he never watched TV and had no idea what Doctor Sexy MD was supposed to be, Dean immediately knew he wasn’t going to be judged quickly by this man on his choice of programs. A few minutes into the episode and Cas was just as hooked as he, maybe even more.

They had a surprisingly pleasant evening, even though they actually barely knew each other. At the end of it, Dean felt a bit shy when he asked Cas if he wanted to stay the night, but to both his relief and slight disappointment the man answered that he still had work to do. Which was probably for the best. They weren’t exactly friends, or even acquaintances. More a two-night stand. And a dinner. And an evening of watching soaps. Hold on – did today count as a date?

Didn’t matter. Dean had work early in the morning, it would only be inconvenient.

He was still slightly sad to see Cas go though.

And he didn’t realise until the next morning that he’d never even asked the guy’s number.

~oO0Oo~

“Sam, you know how I love our little talks, but my lunch break is pretty much over, I seriously need to go.”

_ “But you didn’t even tell me what the guy’s name is! Come on, man, I want details!” _

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s Cas, happy now? And there’s not that much to tell. We had amazing sex. Twice. That’s it.”

_ “Dean, that is not it. You two had a date.” _

“Jeez, we hung out! Can’t guys do that nowadays? And I’m not even talking about no homo, because this is definitely so homo, but – wait, that’s not exactly what I meant. I… Stop laughing, Sam.  _Shut up._ ”

The other side of the line was just filled with the sound of Sam laughing his ass off.

_ “Well, even if so,” _  the younger man eventually managed to bring out,  _“you’re totally into him. So go get that ass. Invite him back.”_

“Can’t,” Dean muttered. “Don’t have his number.”

_ “You’re  _ kidding _me! Really!? You idiot!”_

“Shut up, bitch. Not as if you never made that mistake.”

_ “Yeah, well, I wasn’t head over heels in love with them, you jerk.” _

“Winchester, get off the goddamn phone, you have a customer!” Dean’s boss suddenly shouted.

“Hey, Sam,  _not in love._  But I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? And take some time off your homework! Go chase some skirt!”

_ “You always have the most valuable life lessons, don’t you?” _

“Hanging up now.”

_ “Bye!” _

Dean sighed. His little brother was a pain in the ass. He loved him, but he was a pain in the ass too.

“Your sister seems delightful.”

Dean’s head shot up. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

And sure enough, Cas was standing right there in his doorway, eyes glinting with amusement. Speak of the devil.

“Damn, small town,” Dean said by way of greeting. “And that was my brother, not my sister, by the way. How did you know…”

Cas smiled as he stepped into the little office where Dean did the occasional paperwork for the garage. “I have siblings of my own, I recognise the tone of voice,” he answered. “You called him a bitch though, so that threw me off a bit.”

“Yeah, it’s a thing we do,” Dean retorted. He was starting to smile too now. Damn it. Maybe Sam and his sappy love talk was rubbing off on him. That was probably why Cas had thought the kid had been a chick. It was actually kind of funny. “So, eh, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I need my car fixed,” Cas answered.

“Is that a euphemism?”

The older man laughed and winked. “If you want it to be.”

But Dean shook his head. “Rule number one, don’t screw on the job, it’s not good for business. That, and I could get fired.”

“Hmm, wouldn’t want that happening, no,” Cas agreed.

The car turned out to be a gold ’78 Lincoln Continental, something Dean drew his eyebrows up at.

“Dude, really?” He gave it a quick check. “This has even been modified to be a low-rider! I gotta say, out of all the things I imagined you driving in, this was  _not_  on the list.”

“Well, I did mention siblings, didn’t I?” Cas said, leaning against a workbench. “Gabriel, he’s a bit of a prankster. He bought it for me when I turned twenty-one. I don’t know, it just grew on me.”

Dean smirked. “I think I’d get along with the guy.”

“I think so too.”

They chatted about simple things after that, Dean talking about Sam as Cas told a little about Gabriel. It was nice, easy. Apparently they could get along too when they weren’t having sex. Though the sex definitely hadn’t been a bad thing.

Throughout the entire time that he was working on the car, Dean was silently thinking of the smoothest way to ask Cas to come over again. When the guy’s phone went off though, his head shot up in surprise, the sharp pain immediately wiping all his pick-up lines he’d been coming up with. He quickly rolled out from under the car and looked at Cas, whose face looked thunderous. It was surprisingly terrifying.

“And they really can’t deal with it? Because last time – okay –  _fine_ , I’ll come in. And Rachel?” He fell silent for a moment as his gaze grew incredibly cold. “Don’t you  _ever_   _dare_  to raise your voice against me again.” And with that he hung up.

Dean swallowed. Okay. Nice guy could be scary.

“Work?”

Cas sighed. “I run a company. Well, I don’t  _run_  it, but management has been absolutely abominable lately, so I’ve pretty much been in charge, even though I never had a big function there. It’s ridiculous. And now they need me,  _again._  They’re all children, honestly, can’t function without anyone telling them what to do. Is the car ready?”

Dean’s brow furrowed, but then he caught up. “Oh, yeah, I’ll just lower it down again. Eh, Cas…”

“I’m really sorry, Dean, but I’m in a hurry.” The man had already pulled out his wallet and was now counting the bills. And  _damn_ , those were a lot of bills. “It was really nice to see you again,” he said, and his smile was so incredibly genuine, for a second Dean completely forgot how to talk.

“Eh, yeah, you too.”

“I hope we get the opportunity to meet again sometime. It does really seem to make my day.” He handed over the money and got in the car.

“Well you can always…” Dean spoke quickly, but Cas had closed the car door already, and as the man drove away, he finished his sentence feebly: “come over for dinner again…”

And Cas had paid in cash. So Dean still had no phone number.

_Fuck._

~oO0Oo~

However, to Dean’s surprise, he did run into the guy several more times. At the shops, in the park, even once outside Sam’s campus. Apparently they had the best Greek restaurant in town there. Dean joined Cas for lunch at the little place, and had to agree. Especially after getting fucked senseless in the bathroom stall afterwards.

Nearly all the encounters seemed to end in sex, and though Dean really enjoyed Cas’ company, and the sex as well of course ( _oh God, definitely the sex as well, even in the park, that had been absolutely nuts_ ), he became more and more aware that this wasn’t going to work out. Cas was always gone before Dean could ask his number, and whether that was intentional or not, Dean really couldn’t tell. But the fact that he was doubting it was already not a very good sign.

So in the end he had to write Cas off as a casual fuck and just move on in life. He wanted to find someone to settle down with, and Cas wasn’t it.

So Dean started going to bars again. He picked up shameless flirting again. And it was actually really nice. He’d missed this. He’d only put it all aside in some vague hope that Cas might be the right guy, and now that he saw the truth there, he felt a lot freer.

And it was on the fourth night that he saw a girl that was beautiful enough to take his breath away. The way her eyes glinted told him that his standard Winchester charm wasn’t going to cut it either, and he liked that. Upon talking to her, he found out she was a journalist, and a feisty one too. Apparently her name was Cassie, which was slightly worrying, but at the end of the night Dean actually managed to get her number and even a request to walk her to her car.

Halfway through the alley that led to the parking lot, Cassie turned to Dean, and he suddenly realised the intent in her eyes. “Oh,” he huffed softly. She chuckled at that.

“Yeah.”

And suddenly they were kissing, her lips moving against his with a determination that so far only women had managed to still make seem gentle for Dean. He pressed back, letting his tongue run along the seam of her lips, his hands roaming the soft curves of the body that was pressed against his as she slowly crowded him against the wall. Her thigh slipped between his legs, and he could feel himself grow hard from the contact.

And then she was gone, cold evening air rushing between him and making him shiver. Dean tried to see where she’d gone in the dark, but he didn’t have to, because suddenly there was a voice he knew too well.

“I think you should go home.”

“What the hell, mister?” Cassie’s voice sounded hollow in the little alley, an incredulous tone to it. But then Cas’ voice lowered to a growl.

“ _Go home._ ”

And Dean couldn’t see either of them, but he could hear the woman gasp softly before her footsteps moved away from him, off to her car. A few seconds later the sound of a truck engine roaring to life, and then she was gone, he knew. He looked up, trying to discern Cas from the shadows.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing here? What are you doing  _period_?”

And then the man was right there, pushing up against him, lips against his, pushing, tasting,  _claiming_ , and Dean couldn’t help but moan into it. His cock grew fully hard so fast it hurt, and he started rutting against the thigh pressed between his legs.

“Cas,  _fuck_ , what…”

“I couldn’t let her, Dean, I just couldn’t,” the older man panted as he nipped his way down Dean’s neck and started opening his fly.

“But how are you  _here_ …”

“I don’t know,” Cas answered. He pulled back, his eyes wide, pupils blown. “I don’t know, Dean. Why do we keep bumping into each other?”

But Dean shook his head. “I was moving on from you, you didn’t want me,” he muttered. He let out a gasp as he felt long, slender fingers on his cock, and rutted his hips into the grip. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t quite succeeded in moving on.

Cas tilted his head, gave Dean that squint that the younger man was starting to know so well, as he continued jacking him slow and certain, thumbing the slit and twisting his wrist to pull every moan from him.

“Why would I not want you, Dean? Why would you think that? How could you think that?”

He pressed his body against Dean’s again, made the other feel the hard length in his pants pressing into the other man’s hip. “I do want you,” he panted. “Want you so much.”

“But you –  _oh, fuck, Cas_  – you kept running, you never gave me your number…”

Cas froze for a moment at that, and Dean held his breath.

“I guess I was scared.”

“Scared?”

“And I didn’t need to give you my number,” Cas suddenly said, locking gazes with Dean again. The man looked almost feverish. It was beautiful.

“We kept running into each other, Dean,” he urged. “Do you believe that to be a coincidence?”

“I don’t believe in fate, if that’s what you mean,” Dean retorted, then huffed out a little whine. “Cas…”

The older man started jerking him off again, but didn’t break eye contact, keeping their gazes fixed. “I do, Dean,” he breathed. “I do believe in fate. I never needed to give you my number because I knew I would see you again.”

“No, but you were scared…  _Ah!_ ”

“I’ve never… I’ve never had a real… Dean, please, let me…”

He didn’t need to say it, Dean just nodded, and Cas sunk down to his knees to close his lips around the younger man’s cock, making him gasp and thrust his hips into the wet heat.

And  _fuck_ , Cas gave a blowjob like a dying man, like it was the last thing he would ever do, made every lick and suck count, fondled Dean’s balls right there in that alley and soon every thought was gone from Dean’s head, just that glorious mouth on his cock and their groans and grunts until he came, came hard enough to see stars, and Cas swallowed it all, every last drop. He got up to crush his lips against Dean’s lax, panting mouth, licking into it while jacking himself off until he spilled all over his own fingers. His hand came up to their faces, and Dean licked every digit clean, not caring about the taste.

When he finally managed to breathe relatively normally again, Dean brought up his hand to card his fingers through Cas’ hair. The man had collapsed a little against him after his own orgasm, forehead pressed against the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Cas,” the younger man muttered. “If you want this…”

He was afraid too. He could feel Cas shift against him, but he couldn’t let the man escape, not again. Cas couldn’t run away again. So he was going to hold him close, was going to say the words that scared the both of them, because he hadn’t just been trying to move on, he’d been drowning himself in alcohol. He’d been in pain. And every time he saw Cas again, that pain felt a little less. So he had to say it.

“We both want this, Cas,” he whispered. “Can we please… Can we try?”

As he’d suspected, Cas had frozen in his grip, and once he’d recovered from that, he tried to escape him, but Dean wouldn’t let him. Not again.

“We both want this, Cas,” he repeated, a little more urgently. “Please.  _Please don’t –_ ”

Cas had managed to free himself, but Dean managed to grab his wrist. “Cas, please can we just  _try_  -!”

The last thing he saw was Cas’ panicked face, absolute terror in his eyes, that confident, strong man that flirted so easily was suddenly so afraid, those blue eyes  _so big_  and then there was a fist –

~oO0Oo~

“Yeah, Sam, I’m sure I’m fine.”

_ “So he just knocked you unconscious and then dragged your ass home and put you to bed?” _

“Seems that way,” Dean grunted as he shifted a little under the covers, making sure his phone was still pressed against his ear and the cold cloth against his eye. “Even supplied me with a wet towel for the shiner.”  _And undressed me before tucking me in_ , he thought to himself. Though Sam didn’t have to know that.

_ “And then he left?” _

“Yeah.”

_ “Dean, I don’t know about you, but it kind of worries me,” _  Sam’s voice sounded through the phone.

“Yeah, Sam, you worry about everything. I told you it’s fine. The guy’s okay. He’s just…” Dean sighed. “He’s got a fear of commitment. A pretty big one.”

_ “Yeah, and so do you, Dean,” _  Sam responded. _“But you both seem pretty tangled up with each other. Hell, he’s acting all alpha male possessive over your ass. Dean, I’m sorry, but you can’t be happy like that, just circling around each other like that. It can’t be healthy. And I don’t know, maybe you trust him, but there’s just something about him that I don’t like. It’s just… You guys keep bumping into each other.”_

“He’s a good guy, Sam, I told you this. If you’d meet him, you’d like him, I’m sure. He seems pretty nerdy, you two would get along like a house on fire. But I don’t believe in fate.”

_ “Yeah, and I wasn’t talking about fate. You also don’t believe in coincidence, you like to say. And correct me if I’m wrong, but this is just a bit too much coincidence for sceptics like you and me to just ignore.” _

“Damn it Sam, you’re just looking for something incriminating right now.”

_ “Whether I am or not, Dean, you need to be careful! He punched your lights out! And you can’t possibly be happy with the situation as it is!” _

“Okay, you know what, Doctor Phil, I’ve had enough of this crap. Goodnight.”

_ “Dean –” _

But Dean had already hung up, cutting off whatever his little brother was going to say. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know.

A shiver ran up his spine, and he pulled the covers closer around him.

Today had been… weird. To say the least. But he knew at least that he wanted Cas now, and that Cas wanted him. Even though the guy had knocked him out cold with a single punch.

But then Cas had brought him home, right? He’d done a decent thing to make up for it.

Although Sam did have a point. There was too much coincidence in their meetings. The city wasn’t  _that_  small for them to bump into each other as often as they did.

But Dean trusted Cas. The man hadn’t let him down once so far (unless you counted the all those times he ran out on Dean, making  _him_  the dumped one-night stand, but Dean really rather didn’t count those). He didn’t really want to think about Sam’s point. Because then he’d have to consider things he didn’t want to.

He trusted Cas.

Cas might be right. Might be. They didn’t need phone numbers, they’d bump into each other again.

Dean could do that. He could live with that.

He could live with that feeling of uncertainty, of when he would see Cas again. He could. The anticipation would bring the sex to a new level. And he was okay with it being just sex. He really was.

He could live with the want, the extreme longing that threatened to rip him in two all of a sudden, a longing for a man who wanted him so much he couldn’t bear to see him with anyone else, who wanted him so much he’d tucked him in when he was unconscious. Who’d been the reason Dean was unconscious.

Dean felt like he was losing his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The handjob scene in the kitchen was pretty much inspired by [this post](http://spnsex.tumblr.com/post/96343753841/boss-is-leaking) (NSFW!)


	2. Part 2

_ “In the sweet dark circles of beautiful lies I go round” _  – Scrawled in Sap, 16 Horsepower

\---

Dean was lying to himself.

But he wasn’t going to admit it, and he certainly wasn’t going to stop. Because as long as he pretended he wasn’t emotionally half-crippled, he could keep himself together. Or so he liked to think. But perhaps that was another lie. That he could continue to function as long as he pretended he could.

And sometimes he saw Cas again, and they’d have glorious sex, causing Dean to occasionally not be able to walk straight for a few days at least. And as always, each time he saw Cas, somehow, he hurt a little less. He soaked it all up, all of Cas, even though he barely knew anything about him.

He had no idea who Cas really was.

But he wasn’t going to acknowledge that either. Because he was a stubborn idiot, and keeping his eyes closed just hurt less. He usually didn’t ignore things as big as this, but with Cas it was different. With Cas he was willing to let himself slip away into the swirling darkness of denial where nothing hurt.

Maybe because he’d never felt as strongly before as he did with Cas. Or without, these days.

Because the calm, the ecstasy, the sweet relief that Cas’ presence brought, would be replaced soon after the man left by crippling pain, pain like he’d never felt before. And not being able to walk straight had nothing to do with it. In fact, he felt worse once he stopped feeling the dull throb of his ass. Because when that pain disappeared, he had nothing to remind him that Cas was real, that he was hurting so much over someone tangible.

_ Fuck _ , he was ruined.

But he’d never admit it.

Because as long as he’d ignore it, he could keep going. And each time he saw Cas again, it hurt a little less.

Or that was what he told himself.

~oO0Oo~

But nothing could last forever.

And it was such a small thing, such a stupid thing in his opinion, that caused his resolve to start breaking.

It was a sunny day, and Charlie had demanded Dean to come meet her in both their lunch breaks at the local café. Not even a diner, an actual café. She apparently wanted to try the new raspberry-mocha-frappuccino they now sold or something like that, and demanded he’d be there too. They could even share some pie. So Dean had come.

Now, Charlie was late, which was quite common since she could easily get caught up in her work ( _“What are you calling me for, Dean, I’m_ so close _to breaking this dickbag’s code, come on, nearly there, YES MOTHERTRUCKERS! Sorry, what were you saying again? Oh_ crap _I’m late aren’t I?”_ ), so Dean just took a seat at the window. Which was when he realised who he was sitting across from.

Cas was reading a newspaper, and he hadn’t spotted Dean yet, but even so Dean was like a rabbit in the headlights of oncoming traffic, he couldn’t move, he’d be spotted any second now, and then what would happen, would they sneak into the bathroom at the back of the café and fuck? Would Dean be left on the floor again, feeling high from his orgasm until he came crashing down again? What was going to happen?

And of course Cas spotted him. Of course he did.

But what followed was different.

There was no hunger in the man’s eyes. He came over to Dean’s table, sat down with him, and smiled. And then he started talking.

“How are you, Dean? I didn’t expect to see you here, of all places.”

Dean was frozen for a moment longer, didn’t know what to say, what to do, but eventually he managed to snap out of it.

“What, I can’t visit cafés?”

Cas’ smile widened a little as he let his gaze roam the room. “I just never really pictured you in a place like this.”

“Well, I was going to meet a friend.”

“That does explain things.”

Dean laughed. He actually laughed. It had been a while since it had been this easy with Cas, since the alley thing really if he thought about it. But today Cas seemed in the mood for small-talk. So they talked. The sun shone through the café window, lighting up both their faces, warming their expressions, and they talked.

Charlie didn’t show up until half an hour later, and by that time Dean, for the first time in months, actually felt happy.

When she joined them, Cas stood up, shook her hand with a smile, and then excused himself, saying he still had work to do. She and Dean gave the man a little nod and watched him leave, then simultaneously let out a little sigh of contentment. Dean felt a little pang of hurt when he watched Cas walk out the door, but somehow it was less painful than any of the times they’d had sex. For once he didn’t feel used. A feeling he only now realised he’d been having, somewhere in the back of his mind. For once he felt appreciated.

“Holy crap, Dean, you didn’t tell me he was hot!” Charlie exclaimed with wide eyes as she took a sip of her drink, her stance having completely shifted as soon as Cas was out the door. Dean laughed as he pointed out the whipped cream-‘stache she was sporting.

“Don’t you dig chicks, Charlie?” he commented, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

“Oh shut up, Dean-o, even I can see the guy has killer eyes and a perfect ass,” she retorted with a smile, trying and failing at wiping away some of the cream from her upper lip. Dean laughed again and helped her out.

They spent the rest of their break talking and laughing, enjoying the nice weather and the atmosphere between them. It was easy. It was nice. And Dean realised that evening that he felt better after that one half hour with Cas than he had in a long, long time.

~oO0Oo~

Their next meeting was in the park again.

It only lasted ten minutes, and there was nothing sexual about it, and it was nice. Cas did make a lewd comment about the patch of grass a dog was sniffing at, pointing out how he could probably still smell Dean’s come from a week earlier there, but even then they kept the conversation light and enjoyable. And again, Dean felt good afterwards.

~oO0Oo~

It was three more platonic meetings later when Sam fouled Dean’s perfect mood.

“Dean, what does Cas look like?”

“About yay high,  _very_  blue eyes,  _god so blue_ … And sex hair. Like honest-to-God sex hair. Oh, and a trench coat, or a suit, like pretty much always.”

Dean expected Sam to pull a bitch-face at the description or something, but instead the younger man went pale.

“Yeah, I feared as much,” he muttered.

“Sammy?”

“He’s been to my campus, Dean.”

Dean frowned at that. “Yeah. Loves your Greek restaurant.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what are you saying exactly, Sammy?”

“I’m saying I’ve seen the guy standing outside my window in the middle of the night several times, Dean.”

Dean could feel a muscle in his jaw twitch at that. “That’s bull, Sam.”

“What do you mean? Jesus, Dean, don’t you believe me?”

“I’m saying it was dark.”

“And I’m saying I’ve got perfectly good eyesight and now I’m scared shitless to leave my dorm after ten, Dean! Come on, I said it before, there’s something wrong here. What if this Cas is a stalker?”

“And why the fuck would Cas stand outside  _your_  window, hmm, Sammy? You’ve never met the guy. So don’t you dare go throwing around some pretty heavy accusations!”

Sam stood up at that, towering a little over Dean with his lithe but tall form.

“Why are you even defending him, Dean!? What is it about him that is so special? What gives you the right to protect him like he’s your boyfriend?”

And Dean wanted to answer. He really did. He wanted to spit words at Sam, make him sit down again. But he couldn’t. He had no idea what to say.

“That’s right,” his little brother spoke. “You’re not his anything, Dean. Nor is he _your_  anything.”

_ But I  _ am _his_ , Dean wanted to say.  _And he is mine._

_ Is he? _

“You’re not in a relationship, Dean.”

He makes me happy,” Dean croaked, finally able to find words again.

“No he doesn’t, Dean,” Sam retorted, leaning back a little, giving his older brother a bit more space. “He makes you miserable.”

“But I feel happy.”

Sam gave a woeful smile at that.

“Do you want to be in a relationship with him, Dean?”

Dean huffed, trying his best to cover up the doubt seeping into him, like a single, almost inaudible note, low but sharp enough to cut through bone, tiny, slow and painful.

“Dude, don’t go all Doctor Phil on my ass, okay? It’s none of your goddamn business.”

Sam’s expression softened, saddened even.

“You’re my brother, Dean. Of course it is. And you do, don’t you? I know you. You love him.”

“I see him on a regular basis, Sam. And he makes me happy. That’s enough.”

Sam looked at him for a moment before speaking again.

“Is it, though?”

~oO0Oo~

Dean felt like he  was being ripped apart.

The swirling darkness couldn’t numb him anymore, couldn’t protect him against the razor-hot pain searing through him, slicing him up and ripping him into rough chunks of flesh and  _fuck he couldn’t breathe –_

~oO0Oo~

There was a knock on the door.

Dean knew it wasn’t Sam; the kid always rang the doorbell. No, this was someone else. And he was not going to make the effort to make himself look presentable and open the door. Whoever it was could go fuck themselves. He wasn’t coming out, wasn’t leaving the house again if his life depended on it. He would see Cas again if he did, he was certain of it. And he wasn’t sure he would be able to survive it.

Whoever it was knocked again, a little more urgently this time, and Dean groaned.

“Fuck off! No-one’s home!” he shouted, and it became silent for a moment.

Until a rough voice sounded, muffled through the door.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

_Fuck._

No, he was definitely  _not_  okay.

But Dean was weak too. With a broken sigh he let himself fall back against the couch.

“Spare key is on top of the doorframe,” he called out. Four seconds later Cas was standing in his living room.

Dean could see the shift in his gaze as the man looked around the room, spotting the countless empty bottles of Jack everywhere and the half-empty one that was currently in Dean’s hand. Dean knew his eyes were bloodshot. He knew he had a bad stubble. He knew he looked like crap. And he couldn’t give a damn.

“Dean, what happened?” Cas’ voice was soft, as if Dean was a wounded animal that he didn’t want to scare off.  _Nice_.

“You did,” came the answer, plain and simple.

Cas’ expression shifted again, to something darker this time, anger probably. Dean wasn’t sure. He was drunk.

“I didn’t mean for you to feel like this, Dean,” he said. Yep, restrained anger, his voice was shaking ever so slightly with it. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

Dean let out a hollow laugh at that. “No, I’m sure,” he responded. “You don’t want  _anything_.”

“I want  _you_ , Dean!” Cas growled. Dean shot up at that, forcing himself right into Cas’ space, feeling fury and nausea rise up in him, ready to rip everything apart.

“Then have me!” he shouted.

Cas looked at him, shocked. As if he hadn’t seen it coming. How could he  _not_  have seen that coming?

“Have me, Cas! Not this, this half-assed meeting through chance or fate or whatever. You want me?  _Have me._  It’s what I want. It’s what you want. It’s that simple.”

But Cas looked just as scared as in that alley, so many nights ago. Dean wanted to punch him for it, but somehow he didn’t.

“I can’t, Dean, I told you, I can’t -”

“Then this is over.”

Dean probably wouldn’t have been able to say it sober, but he was drunk, and he was able to say it. Needed to say it.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Cas, whatever  _this_  is –” he indicated between himself and the other man – “it’s unhealthy. It’s killing me. And it’s got to be killing you too. Don’t deny it, Cas. So it has to stop. We split, and we stop doing this. We see other people. We get over each other. Because  _this_  is poison.”

“We’ll keep meeting each other,” Cas replied, his eyes widening slightly as he started to realise what was going on. Panic crept into his voice as he kept speaking, each word more urgently spoken than the last. “Fate keeps pushing us towards each other, Dean, we can’t avoid  _fate_!”

“Depends,” Dean spoke. His upper lip was crawling up into a snarl. “Was it really fate, Cas?”

For a moment it was silent. Tension hung in the air, heavy and prickly, tantalising and sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the older man finally replied, but his voice was all wrong, his words were trembling, and Dean felt sick.

“What did you come here for, Cas?”

“We had so many good moments lately, I thought you would appreciate a visit from me after not having seen each other for a while…”

“And the first time?”

Cas frowned at that, tilting his head a little as the question threw him off. “I brought back your wallet, Dean.”

_ Like hell you were _ , Dean thought to himself.  _Probably stole it from me the evening before to begin with._

“And the second time? At the garage?”

“I needed my car fixed…”

_Bull._  The car had been in pretty good shape, just needed some tinkering.

“You knew where I worked.”

“I swear…”

“What were you doing on Sammy’s campus?”

For a second it was silent again. And then Dean noticed Cas’ eyes. They’d gone dark, and not the good kind. He suddenly felt really, really small.

“I was never on Sam’s campus.” It came out low and dangerous, and Dean was starting to feel fear sneaking up on him.

“We went for Greek there. And Sam says he saw you. Outside his window.”

This time, Cas didn’t respond. He just looked at Dean with a cold, dark gaze, one that promised blood. And Dean knew he’d gone too far. He’d pushed too far, and right now he was in danger.

But Dean was drunk. He was drunk, in pain, and he didn’t care.

He thought back to their first time together, when Cas had admitted to being drunk too.

_ “I needed some courage. You seemed a little… out of my league.” _

“You had me in eyesight before I even spotted you, hadn’t you?” He took a step back, shaking his head. “And you never let go.”

He turned away from Cas. He didn’t want to see the guy’s face anymore, felt exhausted from all of this.

Dean was drunk.

Dean was drunk, and he couldn’t assess the social situation as well as he needed to.

Turning around was mistake number one.

Pulling out his phone was mistake number two.

“I’m calling the cops. I want you out of my house.  _We’re done._ ”

The next moment he felt a short, searing pain against the side of his head. Then everything went black.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape warning for this chapter. As I said at the beginning of the fic, there's no real struggle against it, but even if you're acting as if you want it, even if you're cooperating, that still counts as rape to me if you don't want it. Please remember that. Anyway, final chapter and an epilogue and we're done!

_ “Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin” –  _ (The Ripe & Ruin), Alt-J

\---

_ Small flashes of fireworks behind his eyelids, and each one set off a new sharp sting of pain, but the rest was dark, it was dark and he was drowning, the darkness was pressing down on him, smothering him, drowning him, he couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe – _

 “I’m sorry, Dean.”

_ Words that came drifting through the darkness, familiar voice, but it hurt, his head hurt so much, but that was good, the pain was localised now, he could think, even though it hurt. His thoughts were not drowning in darkness. He could think. Think his way out, wake up – yes, he wasn’t awake, not really. Maybe if the voice kept speaking, he could hold on to the words, pull himself out of this. _

“I didn’t mean for it to come to this. But you were right, and I didn’t know what to do. And you told me to take you. So I did.”

_ Short silence, but that was okay, Dean was – Dean, yes, his name – he was fighting to get to the surface, he just had to fight a little more. His body was heavy, and then he remembered alcohol, being drunk, being so heavy-limbed, but he had to fight, he had to. _

“It’s not so big a difference from our previous situation anyway,” Cas continued.

Cas.

With a groan, Dean tried opening his eyes, but the light  _hurt_ , so he just let them flutter shut again. But at least he was awake now. He knew what had happened. Sort of.

And he registered the soft pressure on his limbs. It hadn’t been darkness pressing down on him, keeping him in place. It had been bindings.

Whatever Dean was lying on, he was strapped down.

“Well I don’t exactly remember  _this_ ,” he muttered, twisting his arm against the leather bonds to indicate what he was talking about. He could practically  _hear_  Cas tilting his head.

“That is just a precaution, in case you would get aggressive.”

“Oh,  _in case_  I would get aggressive!?” Dean raised his voice, causing his head to throb in protest, but he ignored it. “Because there was a likely scenario where I would be completely fine with getting knocked out and kidnapped!”

“You seemed okay with it last time.”

This time Dean  _did_  open his eyes. He had to let his vision adjust for a moment, but then Cas came into view, head tilted as he’d suspected. The room wasn’t familiar, both floors and walls padded in off-white cushions, so he was definitely not in his own house anymore. And he was strapped down to an operating table.

_ What the everloving fuck. _

“Where the hell did you even get this thing from?”

“eBay,” Cas replied matter-of-factly. “Do you think you’ll behave or do I have to keep you strapped down a little longer?”

_ Jesus Christ _ . This was messed up.

Dean wanted to answer that he’d behave, see how far he’d get, maybe he could make it out the front door and onto the street, shout for help. But something told him Cas would see through the lie with ease. And the guy was not afraid to knock him out cold in case he tried to escape.

So instead he just turned towards the man and snarled. “Bite me.”

Cas raised his eyebrow just a little at that.

“That can be arranged.”

Before Dean could even protest, the older man sunk his teeth into Dean’s neck.

“ _Aargh, fuck!_  What the hell, Cas! Are you insane!?”

He knew before the last syllable left his mouth that he’d made another mistake. And sure enough, Castiel’s gaze grew downright murderous. Within the blink of an eye the man was suddenly straddling him, hands on his throat – not squeezing, but their presence was threatening enough to nearly cut off Dean’s breath, his touch grazing the throbbing wound in Dean’s neck. Cas leaned in until their faces were inches apart. And for some reason all Dean could think was that the guy’s pupils were like pinpricks, and it looked incredibly unsettling.

“Don’t ever call me insane.”

The words were forced out between gritted teeth, barely audible. Dean could hear them well enough, though. He could practically feel Castiel’s lips brush against his as the man spoke. A shudder ran through him, and adrenaline was coursing through his veins, causing his breath to come out fast and shallow.

“Okay,” he managed to bring out. “You’re not… you’re not insane. Cas, please…”

The older man held him under a scrutinising gaze for a few seconds longer, but then he leaned back, hands easing off Dean’s throat. They stayed like that for a moment, until Dean decided to break the silence. He had to talk, he needed to regain Cas’ trust, needed to make the other let down his guard so that he could escape.

“Okay, so the table is from eBay, but what about the room? Where did all this come from?” He gave a little nod to the padded walls and floor, and Cas tilted his head, as if he didn’t quite understand the question.

“I installed it myself,” he answered, still straddling Dean and seemingly not in a hurry to move.

“But why?” Dean urged. He had to keep the conversation going. If it faltered, Cas could do anything. And he really didn’t want to find out what the man would do. Besides, he actually was curious to why the  _hell_  Cas would do this, would do any of this.

“It brings me calm,” was the answer. “I… I grew up in a place that had rooms like these. I would always be brought to one to calm down, I think.”

“You know there’s a thing like yoga, right?” Dean quipped.

“Yes. This room is excellent for yoga. Soft floor, and soundproof, so there’s nothing distracting me.”

“Must be a bitch to clean though.”

Cas tilted his head a little again. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never spilt anything in here.”

Dean swallowed. He really hoped it would stay that way.

But this was good. They were talking. And it sounded like Cas had grown up in a mental hospital. Which would explain a great deal.

“So, Cas, this place you grew up in, what was it like?” he asked.  _Just keep him talking._

“There were kids there,” Cas answered, shifting a little so he was more comfortable. He’d so far managed to keep his weight from pressing down too much. “Strange kids. And nurses. They said the kids were like me. Or I was like them.”

His gaze grew darker again.

“But I wasn’t. I’m not. They were crazy, Dean. And I am sane.”

“Is that why they let you go?”

Cas tilted his head again, a smile showing this time. “Yes. They said I was healthy. They helped me find a house and a job. And I’m in charge at the office now, even if it’s not official yet. I’m sane, Dean.”

_ Yeah, you sure sound it _ , Dean thought to himself, but he kept silent. He wasn’t that stupid. He liked living, thank you very much.

Once again though, it made sense. He’d never thought of Cas as insane. The guy had seemed so normal, so kind. But there had been something just slightly  _off_ , slightly  _wrong_. Sam had picked up on it. Dean wondered if anyone from the board who declared Cas healthy had picked up on it too.

“I believe you,” he said, and Cas’ gaze clearly softened. It made Dean shiver. This was just so  _wrong_. The man seemed so kind and normal, but Dean  _was_  strapped to a table, proving that Cas was not alright.

But there was one thing still bothering him, though, one thing that didn’t quite seem to fit. Dean had to be careful in wording everything, so he thought for a moment before asking his next question.

“What made you change your mind?”

As expected, Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t have me,” Dean explained carefully. “But then you took me anyway. Why? What changed your mind?”

“Oh.” Cas nodded as if he was given a relatively simple mathematical equation to solve. “You were going to leave me,” he then answered, as if it explained everything. And in a way, it did.  _Either I can never have you again or no-one else can and I will just have to bear the consequences of keeping you to myself_  kind of thing. Dean just counted himself lucky that he hadn’t been killed.

Although, the situation he was in at the moment wasn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows either.

At that moment Dean suddenly realised that the conversation had more or less come to an end, something Cas seemed to have realised as well, because he climbed off the table and pulled his clothes straight.

“Wait, where are you going?” Dean asked, feeling panic rise in his throat.

“I still have work, Dean.” Cas frowned, seemingly surprised by the fact that his captive hadn’t thought about that. After all, why would Dean think Cas’ world wouldn’t continue turning? The man worked hard to get that job. He just had someone strapped down in his crazy basement now. No biggie. Nothing to stop going to work for. Dean thought he was going to be sick.

Actually…

“You’ll come back for me, won’t you?” he asked. “You’re not just going to let me rot?”

Cas smiled, and Dean tried his best to smile back, he really did. The older man walked back over to him and petted Dean’s hair, then leaned in to press a kiss against his forehead.

“I won’t forget about you, Dean,” he promised. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

He then checked his watch and sighed. “But right now I’m running late. I’ll check up on you in my lunch break.” And with that he left through a door almost hidden in the padded wall, leaving Dean alone in the dimly lit room.

Okay. So Cas didn’t want Dean to just die. That was good.

Now Dean just had to find a way to throw up without using his hands.

~oO0Oo~

By the time Cas came back, he hadn’t even come close to succeeding. The plan had been to get himself to hurl right before the man would walk into the room. To prevent him from choking on his vomit, Cas would have to undo his straps and roll him on his side. The guy would be caught off guard if Dean turned out to be in pretty good condition and ready to fight him off. But it was a far-fetched, desperate plan, and he hadn’t gotten anywhere with it so far, so right now he just went for plan B, which he had been able to come up with as time went on and he’d managed to calm down a little and think more clearly.

“Cas, please man, just undo the straps. This isn’t exactly comfortable, and I kinda need a piss. I promise I’ll behave.”

The older man cocked his head to the side. “You know what, Dean?  _If_  you behave, I promise I will let you stretch your legs tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Dean wanted to groan. He actually really did need to pee. And he was starving too. Eating wasn’t going to be easy like this, if Cas was even planning on feeding him anytime soon. But he didn’t make a sound. He knew better than to protest. So he nodded, forcing a smile.

“Sounds good.”

“And to your little problem… Hold on.” Cas left the room, and Dean suddenly felt dread for what the man would come up with. Hopefully nothing too bad.

When Cas came back, he was carrying a bowl of something that smelled like mashed potatoes in one hand and a big empty plastic Mountain Dew bottle in the other. So that’s where this was going. Dean could handle that.

It felt incredibly weird to be spoon-fed the creamy potatoes, but compared to the peeing process it was a cakewalk. When Cas unzipped Dean’s pants, pulled out his dick and held the tip of it against the bottle, a shiver of disgust went down the younger man’s spine. Feeling foreign fingers on him while peeing was definitely unpleasant too, and it took him a minute or two to get the stream flowing. Somehow though Cas stayed patient, which in a way did help, even though it was creepy as fuck. The man left to get back to work after that, and Dean was alone again.

Being alone was probably the worst of it. Somehow it was worse this time, now that he knew he could be stuck here for a long time. Strapped down like this, with nothing to occupy himself with, all he could do was stare at the ceiling and let his mind swirl into dark places. And it really wasn’t fun. It only took less than an hour of loneliness this time for Dean to start hyperventilating, because he should have seen it coming, he let himself believe all the lies, ignored all the signs of how wrong it was, he’d messed up, and now he was stuck here and no-one knew he was down here, no-one knew where he was, and it didn’t matter how well Cas took care of him, he’d die in the end, he was certain of it, and Sam would never be the wiser…

By the time Cas came back again, Dean was a shaking mess, sticky with tears and sweat from struggling against his bonds in a blind panic. The older man immediately rushed to his side and started petting his hair again, making soothing noises as he did so.

And to Dean’s horror, it made him feel better. He wasn’t alone anymore. Cas’ presence caused his mind to fall silent again, and he leaned into the man’s touch, craving the calm it offered and hating himself for it.

Cas stayed with him the rest of the evening, talking about his day about his work and reading to him from some paperback novel, feeding him broccoli soup halfway through (which turned into a bit of a mess but was actually quite tasty, and the warmth in Dean’s stomach helped him feel a bit more sleepy).

Eventually the man stood up, and the panic rose in Dean again. A whole night on his own in the dark would drive him insane, he feared. But a whole night with an insane man right next to him probably wouldn’t help his nerves either.

In the end he decided to go for the option he thought Cas would appreciate the most. He had to win the man’s trust after all.

“Cas? Will you… Will you stay with me?”

Cas seemed genuinely surprised by the question. Then, he smiled.

“Of course, Dean.”

He lowered the table until Dean was almost at the same level as the floor. Cas left again then, but came back not too long afterwards, wearing deep blue pyjamas and carrying a blanket and pillow with him. He sprawled out the objects on the floor, walked back to turn off the light, then went to lie down under the blanket and curl up against Dean. It was awkward, since Dean was still strapped down and wearing his outfit from that day, smelling of stale sweat to top it off, but Cas didn’t seem to mind. He just let out a happy sigh.

“You were right, Dean. We should have tried this much earlier.”

~oO0Oo~

Dean slept like crap, but when Cas woke up the next morning he gave a strained smile and thanked the man for staying with him. It had definitely still been better than if he would have had to spend his night staring into the dark on his own, without someone else’s presence and breathing to focus on. That didn’t mean that he felt any better than the day before though. But Cas didn’t have to know that.

When the guy started undoing his straps, relief hit him so hard it made him dizzy. He didn’t dare fight Cas yet, though. He wanted to get the jump on him, and he felt that he still needed to earn the guy’s trust a bit more for that.

Relief didn’t last long though, because once again Cas had to go to work, leaving Dean alone with a plastic bucket this time to use as a toilet. Needless to say, Dean really wasn’t feeling too happy with that.

And once again, by the time Cas came back, Dean was a mess, but he kept himself together and smiled his way through it, even though he felt miserable and gross and sticky. But smiling his way through crap situations seemed to be his life, so he had become pretty good at it over time. This was proven when Cas smiled back.

“I’m relieved to see you’re doing well,” the man said, and Dean shivered. Yeah, about as well as he could get. “And you’ve been a model guest in my house.”  _Guest. Fucking hell._

Cas sat down next to him, legs folded in the lotus position, their backs pressed against the wall. “Tell me Dean, is there anything you want to do today?”

Dean knew that asking a day out of the basement would not be the smart option here, so instead he went for something else he felt a little desperate for right now.

“Could I maybe wash myself?”

Cas tilted his head and frowned, as if he only now became aware of the smell. Then, he smiled and nodded.

“Of course. I will be back in five minutes. Why don’t you start taking your clothes off?”

Dean gulped. That wasn’t exactly how he had it in mind, but he couldn’t say no. It was too dangerous. So when Cas left, he carefully started peeling his clothes off his body, the movement releasing the rich, tangy odour of stale sweat from the fabric.

He was fully naked and kneeling on the floor by the time Cas came back with a bucket filled with steaming, fragrant water and a sponge, and he suddenly felt really vulnerable.

Cas smiled at Dean’s attempt to cover himself. “I don’t think there’s much need for that, Dean,” he said. “I’ve already seen you naked plenty of times. Give me your arm.”

Dean frowned, but did as Cas asked. The man took him gently by the wrist, which still felt sensitive from straining against his bonds before, soaked the sponge, then started carefully rubbing it down Dean’s arm.

Right. So Dean was getting a sponge bath. That wasn’t creepy. That was totally normal.

“Eh, Cas?” he chuckled nervously, trying not to shiver at the cooled drops of water sliding down his arm, down his naked torso and dripping down onto his thighs. “You know I can do these things myself, right?”

For a second he feared he’d said the wrong thing as Cas’ hand stilled, but then the man smiled. “I want to do this for you, Dean,” he replied. “It really is no burden.”

And that was that, no room for argument. Dean just had to sit still and look pretty while the warm sponge was being swiped over his body. And he let it happen. In a way, it was quite soothing, no matter how much he wanted it not to be. He did jump a little though when Cas started wiping his more private areas, but the older man just chuckled at his reaction and continued. By the time it was done, Dean did feel cleaner, or freshened up at least, and for that he was grateful.

Cas took a towel and slowly started rubbing Dean dry. It all felt very methodical and calming, and Dean hated how he let himself be handled this way. Shame started prickling hot behind his eyes, and he blinked furiously to force back any tears. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, sitting naked in another man’s padded basement, getting a sponge bath, and he wasn’t even fighting it. He was relishing the physical contact.

Suddenly he felt Cas’ hand cupping his face, and it was only then Dean realised how he’d been avoiding the guy’s gaze. He looked up now, albeit reluctantly. To his surprise, Cas’ eyes were gentle, and there seemed to be a hint of concern in them.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said softly. “It’s safe.”

He pressed the gentlest kiss against Dean’s lips, and Dean let it happen, again. His eyes slid shut upon the contact, and a small, shuddering breath escaped him as he carefully pressed back, deepening the kiss only a little. He still had to win Cas’ full trust, after all.

One thing he wasn’t going to do though. He might accept the intimacies, but he wasn’t going to accept Cas’ words. There was nothing safe about this. He was tightrope-walking on the edge of a razorblade; one wrong move and he would be dead. And it wasn’t okay either. It was wrong, incredibly wrong, all of this, all of it. And he had to keep that in mind.

When Cas pulled back, he let out a soft gasp at the loss of contact, his eyes opening again to watch the older man gather the sponge, towel, bucket and Dean’s dirty clothes. “Where are you going?” he asked, panic rising in his throat again. He hated not knowing what was going to happen next.

Cas turned around to look back at him, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said. “My company is going through a rough patch, and they might call me several times tonight. I don’t want to wake you with that, so I will be sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

_ No. No, no no no that was not supposed to happen, _  Dean couldn’t spend the night alone, he couldn’t,  _please no_ …

But he couldn’t say that of course, he couldn’t, because if there was one thing Dean wouldn’t do, not again, was beg Cas. Not unless he absolutely had to.

So the man walked away from him, headed to the door that would close behind him, he would turn off the lights and douse Dean in suffocating darkness. Before he did though, he stopped in the doorway for a moment and turned around, a hint of a smile curving the corners of his mouth up as he looked at the naked, shivering form of Dean crouching on his padded floor.

“You know, I really like you like this. I think I’m just gonna keep you naked.”

And then he left.

~oO0Oo~

Dean barely slept that night. He felt sick, violated in letting Cas just touch him as intimately as that. He hated himself for it. And the nerves of what would happen to him next were churning in his gut, causing his palms to sweat cold and his blood to rush in his ears. He was glad at least that he wasn’t still strapped down; that way he wouldn’t have been able to preserve any of his body heat. And that was another thing; he was naked, and kept like a pet. Though Cas was probably a shit pet owner.

He deserved to be called a pet though. He was like a fucking dog, getting neglected but still begging its master not to leave him at night and wagging its tail when master came home from work and showed him affection. He was pathetic. And he was starting to doubt whether or not he actually had the strength to escape. Whether he even wanted it enough to succeed. He thought back to his original plan, and the ridiculousness made him bark out a slightly hysterical laugh. Yeah. He was definitely pathetic.

His thoughts tumbled over each other like that throughout the night as he waited anxiously for Cas to show up again and announce the morning. It was probably the longest night he ever had.

But thankfully, Cas did show up, and the night did end. Once again he felt an unhealthy amount of relief upon seeing the guy. He really had to stop doing that.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas said with a smile as he approached his pet with a plate of food. “Now that your hands are free, I thought I would bring you some eggs and bacon. Do you like that?”

Dean grabbed the plate and managed to remember a nod as he wolfed down the breakfast, moaning at the taste. God, he’d missed that. It felt so good to feel the warmth of it settle in his stomach.

When he looked up, he saw something in Cas’ gaze that unsettled him. The man smiled benignly at him, and he didn’t like it.

“We haven’t had sex in a while, have we?”

Dean was going to throw up.

_ No. No way, absolutely not. _  He wanted to scramble backwards, wanted to hurl his breakfast into his toilet bucket, but he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t. So he just sat there, frozen, as Cas approached him, took Dean’s face between his hands, and kissed him deep. Dean didn’t do a thing as his mouth was invaded by a prying tongue that already knew its way so well. He didn’t move as long, elegant fingers roamed his naked skin, reminding him of how vulnerable he was right now.

Cas wasn’t an idiot, though. He noticed the way Dean had pretty much frozen under his touch. So he pulled back, a worried look in his eyes.

“Dean, is everything alright?”

_Crap._  Dean had to snap out of this, had to keep Cas happy, had to keep suspicions low. He shook his head a little and smiled.

“Yeah, Cas. Sorry. Everything is fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t know what to say. His mind was completely blank. There was no excuse he could come up with. So he pressed his mouth against Cas’.

It was surprisingly easy to deepen the kiss, let his tongue slip against Cas’ and make him let out a soft moan, even as he felt those fingers skim lower and caress his ass. These were movements he knew. It was all mechanical. Just muscle memory from previous times. In his mind he was detached from it all, and Cas didn’t notice, too caught up in the sensations.

But Dean’s body… His body had missed this. Was shivering under the touches, was welcoming the warmth of Cas’ hands, Cas’ breath skimming over his throat. Blood was soon filling his dick as Cas’ fingers curled around it. Dean felt sick for it, but he let it happen. Knew he just had to get through this.

But as those fingers brushed across his hole, a thought hit him.

Maybe he didn’t.

Cas was going to be vulnerable right now.

So he threw his head back and let out a gasp when the tip of Cas’ finger pressed not quite hard enough to penetrate. He was going to put on the best damn show the man had ever seen.

“Lube,” he panted softly, and Cas pulled a little bottle out of his pocket. Of course. You could rely on Cas to always carry the stuff with him. As the guy lubed himself up, Dean pulled back a little to look him in the eye. He was met with a dark gaze, pupils blown completely to engulf most of that blue that he’d fallen for in the first place.

“How do you want me, Cas?”

Cas shivered for a moment upon hearing those words, but then he recaptured Dean’s mouth hungrily. “You’re going to ride me,” he growled. “You’re going to finger yourself open, and then you’re going to ride me.”

Dean moaned, just for effect, and nodded. “Yeah,” he panted. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He took the lube from Cas and slicked up his fingers, his heart thundering in his chest.  _Fuck_ , he was terrified. But he could do this.

He went to lie back on the padded floor, for once thanking its softness, and spread his legs. His cock was lying hard against his abdomen, throbbing with nervous anticipation as he reached down and carefully pressed a finger against his own entrance.

He gasped, and this time, it wasn’t a show. He felt Cas’ hooded gaze on him, felt so naked as he pressed in further, and when his entire finger was finally in, he let out a strangled moan. Everything about this was wrong, but Dean knew how to finger himself, and it never failed to feel good.

His breath became harsher as he pulled his finger out again and pushed back in, the sensation of the digit sliding in and out of him slightly dizzying, until it went smoothly and he could add another finger. And that one cut off his breath almost completely as he arched up a little. Perhaps it was the vulnerability of it all, how much he was on display right now, that intensified the sensations. But he didn’t really care. He just fingered himself until he was panting harshly, small drops of sweat rolling down his body as he started scissoring his fingers to stretch himself open a bit more.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean was actually surprised by Cas’ patience. But he pressed down the thought. It wasn’t important. Now that he was prepped properly, he crawled over to Cas, who went to lie back as Dean hovered over him. He carefully positioned himself, taking Cas’ cock in his hand and somehow jumping a little at the sensation. Then he sank down, throwing his head back in a groan at the feeling of getting filled up. Cas let out a groan as well, and gripped Dean’s hips tight enough to form bruises.

After a moment of adjusting, Dean started circling his hips. Cas let out another groan at that, and he took the tightening grip as motivation to start moving properly. He lifted himself up and sank down again, shuddering at the feeling of Cas’ cock inside him, but getting spurred on by Cas’ increasing moans. Soon he was bouncing up and down, occasionally switching it up for rolling his hips again, clenching down rhythmically. He needed to bring Cas to the edge, so he rode him like it was going to be their last fuck in life, fucking gave it his all.

He let his hands slip around Cas’ throat, just let them rest there while he bounced up and down, until he saw that expression on the man’s face that he’d come to recognise as  _really fucking close, Dean, gonna come-!_

And he pressed down.

Cas’ eyes shot open when his airway was cut off. Dean felt the man come beneath him, felt the spunk covering his insides, or maybe he imagined that, but he ignored it, focused instead on pressing down harder, squeezing until Cas started shaking, started pulling at Dean’s wrists, then scratching. Dean watched the man’s lips move silently like those of a goldfish, his eyes roll back, and he felt sick, he still had Cas’ cock in his ass while he was squeezing the life out of him…

But finally, after what had felt like an eternity, Cas stopped moving. His arms fell limp by his sides. His breath stopped.

Dean stood up, and swore loudly as he did so because pulling off Cas’ cock as quickly as that  _hurt_  like a  _motherfucker_ , but he just clenched his teeth and ran straight for the door.

Before he could even make it, something hit him hard against his temple. He tried thinking what it could be, but within a second, spots appeared on his retina, and a second blow turned everything black.

~oO0Oo~

When he woke up, he was strapped down again, still naked. He could feel Cas’ dried come sticky on his thighs, right below his ass, and panic rose in him because  _no, not again, how had this happened, he’d been so close, he’d never get out now, was trapped forever, and this time Cas knew he’d lied…_

Something had been placed on his chest, and when he strained his head up, he saw it was a note, carefully balanced on top of him.

_ Dean _

_ I did not appreciate that. I need to go to work now, but when I get back, do not expect me to come visit you. You’re not getting any food for the next 24 hours. I hope that will be a lesson for you. _

_ \- Castiel _

_ PS: Next time you try strangling someone, make sure they are unconscious. _

Dean tilted his head to the side the best he could, and threw up.

~oO0Oo~

This was more than twenty-four hours.

It had to be.

Dean thought he’d known how hunger felt, but now it had gained a completely new feeling to associate with.

In the beginning, his stomach had growled, and it had driven him mad. But as time moved on, it was as if his stomach stopped existing. For a while he’d felt nothing, but then he’d suddenly be overthrown by crippling pain in his lower abdomen, cramps that would have him bending double if he’d been standing up. But all he could do in his position was pant through it and hope for it to blow over. Which it would, but only for it to return a few hours later, feeling about twice as bad.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. The hunger went paired with thirst, and he wasn’t sure what was worse. But he didn’t have the energy to ponder about it. He felt drained, exhausted. He drifted in and out of sleep constantly, only to jolt awake from nightmares about bright blue eyes and caressing touches.

And though he hated it, his thoughts often drifted back, analysed everything that had happened. He would think back to Cas’ concern, his attempts at soothing Dean, and he wondered if the man had experienced something similar in his own childhood in the place he grew up in. If he had ever been terrified of the nurses’ touches when they gave him a bath. If he had had to spend a lot of time in isolation because of panic attacks about all the people around him that were constantly trying to make him feel safer, were trying to make him feel okay with bonding, that were trying their best to make him a normal, functional human being.

Dean wondered if they had ever succeeded. If Cas had ever managed to finally feel safe around people, or if he’d just been an amazing actor, fooling everyone into thinking he was healthy, sane. Maybe Dean just wanted the consolation of professionals having been as blind as he’d been. But he wouldn’t find that consolation. He didn’t have answers. He just had guesses.

He remembered thinking of himself as ruined, but somehow he felt like that wasn’t true now. He’d managed to hang on. He’d never lost his sanity. He’d fought to the bitter end, even if it had been touch and go here and there. It was Cas who was completely ruined. Who could never be fixed. Not in Dean’s eyes.

As his energy drained more and more, his thoughts drifted to his family. He thought about his parents, about Bobby, all gone. He wondered where they were right now. If he’d see them again.

And he thought about Sam. Sammy, his obnoxious little brother, pride of the family. And that wasn’t thought in spite; Dean was proud of him, so immensely proud. He’d never told the kid that, how proud he had been when Sam had been accepted to Stanford. He’d never be able to tell him.

Eventually, even his dreams faded to black. He still recognised some faces, like Sam’s, between the crowd of faceless people, and he kept telling the kid,  _“I’m so proud of you, Sammy, so proud, need you to know that”_ , and maybe he imagined it, it was all so vague, but it sounded like the dream whispered back,  _“I know”_.

It was the most comforting thing Dean had heard in his entire life.

And finally he allowed to let himself slip into the darkness, feeling safe with the knowledge that his little brother knew.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyric for this epilogue was changed like five times. Honestly, pretty much the lyrics from the entire song Youth fit perfectly.

_ “It was a flood that wrecked this heart, and you caused it” –  _ Youth, Daughter

\---

“His real name is Jimmy Novak, apparently.”

Dean didn’t really give a damn.

He was looking through the ward window at who he’d known as Cas. The guy was wearing white cotton pants and shirt, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring ahead blankly. Probably drugged up to the max. It somehow made the guy look twenty years younger, even with the faint sorrow in his eyes. But Dean didn’t care. He just wanted to leave. He didn’t even know why he was here. Some bullshit advice from his own counsellor about closure.

He turned around, away from the man that had effectively ruined his trust in any other human being apart from his little brother.

“Come on, Sammy. Let’s get out of here.”

It had been a month since the team of police officers had carried him out of the basement. He’d been malnourished, severely dehydrated, and unconscious.

Cas had never returned because he’d been arrested a day-and-a-half after Dean had tried to escape.

It had been Sam who’d gone to the police. He’d spotted Cas on his campus several more times, and when he tried to call Dean about it, he hadn’t been able to reach him. Dean’s work hadn’t seen him in a few days either, and Sam had filed for a missing persons report, immediately warning the police about Cas as well.

Arresting Cas had been the easy part. Getting him to tell them where Dean was, had been trickier. The guy had kept insisting that he was sane, that he was normal, that Dean was fine. He hadn’t really snapped out of that until someone said Dean would most likely die within the next few days if they wouldn’t find him.

So Dean had been found, had been admitted in the hospital, and by the time he woke up, Sam had been there. He’d thanked any and every deity for that, because he wouldn’t let a single nurse touch him for another sponge bath. Sam had felt a bit awkward to do it the first time, but Dean had assured he could do some more intimate places himself, and soon Sam became his caretaker, staying by his side throughout the month in hospital, even during therapy sessions. Dean had refused to be alone with anyone unless Sam was there. It did bring them closer together, even if the amount of bickering between them increased.

Now that Cas was back in confinement, it had become a bit better though. Dean felt okay with spending the night alone in his house again, though he had started checking the market for a new place. Each time he saw his own handiwork in the renovations, he just remembered Cas’ praise for his skill.

He and Sam walked back to the Impala, and for a moment Dean stood still, soaking in the sunshine. He heard Sam walking to the trunk of the car to pull out two beer bottles. They were supposed to open those tonight, but now was really as good as any other time. He opened his eyes and gratefully accepted one of the bottles. They opened them simultaneously with a satisfying hiss and clinked them together, then took a sip, both of them looking up at the white building that now housed Castiel, aka Jimmy Novak.

“You feeling a bit better?” Sam asked, not even looking at his brother as he said it, instead taking another casual sip of his beer.

“Not really,” Dean answered, not looking at his brother either.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Dean let his gaze roam the windows one last time, and he could swear that from one of them, a dark-haired man was looking straight back at him. He shivered, then finally turned away.

“Yeah, let’s.”

~End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and thank you so much Mad_Amethyst for the prompt! If you commented on this fic, thank you so much. If you didn't, that's okay too. I just want you all to know that you never have to feel weird, awkward or invasive when commenting or sending me a private message, whether it's a positive thing or criticism/advice. It's how me and Amethyst got talking and how this prompt was created. So please, feel free to leave a comment, or come talk to me/send me prompts or requests on [my tumblr blog](ohdarlingifonlyyouknew.tumblr.com)!
> 
> The prompt was:
> 
> _Dean meets a strange and funny guy with blue eyes at a bar and has casual sex with him. He doesn’t think to see him again, but destiny (fate, chance) seems make them run into each other pretty often. At first, Dean doesn’t care, because sex is good, but he begins to be worried when Cas comes upon him again when he’s making out with some other guy… And given Cas’ violent reaction, maybe destiny was not truly responsible of their previous encounters…_
> 
> _I really want dark, creepy and possessive Cas following Dean without him knowing. Cas seems like a nice guy, as he wears a “nice vibe” mask daily, until he snaps when he sees “his prey” with another man (or woman, in fact, it’s good too). Then, he shows his true face, violent and cold (commanding, a bit like God!Cas). I love hurt!Dean, so don’t hesitate with the violence! :p However, I don’t view Cas like a dirty talker, or else a mannered one. He would use beautiful words, not “slut” or “bitch”. Tell me if it’s unclear! ^^’_
> 
> _You can alternate POVs or not, it’s your choice. And I let you decide how it ends, because I like surprises! :D I want you to feel free to write this according to your desires. If you have an issue with anything, don’t respect all of my wishes. I want above all for you to have fun! :)_


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